Every 12 years there is a gathering of the spiritual heads and devotees of various Hindu and related sects in India in Prayagraj, formerly called Allahabad. And after 12 cycles of these events, every 144 years, there is a Maha Kumbh Mela, which is happening right now. The estimate of number of attendees seems to vary considerably, depending on whether it is a special auspicious day for bathing in the confluence of the Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati Rivers, the last being in a spiritual, not physical realm, or whether you are speaking of daily visitors or people camping out at night. Today, January 27, is the most auspicious bathing day of all, Mauni Amavasya The most recent number I heard was 100 million people expected today.
There is a large ongoing organizational effort by the local authorities to allow this event to happen successfully without incident. It is well written about in the book The Kumbh Mela: Mapping the Ephemeral Megacity for which my friend Diana Eck wrote the chapter on its religious significance. The flood plains of Prayagraj which emerge after the monsoon waters recede must be prepared for large human occupation for about 6 weeks, which means water, garbage, sewage, emergency, medical and food delivery systems must all be put in place. And, in general, it works.
However, at the last such event here in 2013, 37 people were killed in a stampede at the railway station, off the festival grounds. This morning, when I awoke, I found out from a friend in California that there was a “crush” of people about 12:30 am here sending many people to the hospital. The result was that the police put restrictions in place and the temporary pontoon bridges used for crossing the river were confined to people leaving the area, not arriving. There are political as well as human implications as Prime Minister Modi is a big supporter of the event so any negative issues are taken by the opposition party as a sign of poor administration.
Getting here was quite an adventure in itself. Because of the expected crowds, at a certain point the roads were closed to three and four wheel vehicles. We pass several large parking areas filled with large buses, including many two level sleeper buses, and cars. We are met by two young guides from our tour operators local office who are to take us to our camp. Their English is minimal. They indicate we will be riding on the back of their two motorcycles with all our luggage from there to the camp. However, I was not prepared for this in my clothing choice or physical abilities and I feared permanent knee injury on such a trip — and I had promised my family I would not ride a motorcycle, especially without a helmet. So I send a message to their office and ask the two young men to find a motor rickshaw, or tuktuk for us. After much discussion and a lot of time, one was hired and we traveled on very rough roads to avoid the police blockade while the 2 young men on their motorcycles followed us. Then our electric vehicle ran out of power. So eventually another tuktuk was negotiated and off we went until the police who were everywhere stopped us from going any further. At that point we had no choice but to merge with the hundreds of thousands of other pilgrims all around us and start walking to camp, a number of kilometers. At least the guides managed to park their motorcycles and carry our luggage.
It was intense to be part of the pilgrim’s progress. We are walking on a paved road and pass small eating stalls as we bump along together. This group of people appears to have little sense of personal space and has no issue, even when seeking spiritual salvation, in pushing ahead of fellow travelers. This is one of the factors creating the sometimes deadly stampedes here.
Our travel companions are as varied and different from each other and from my usual world as possible. Many rural village groups, with the women in very bright saris balancing huge sacks on their heads, some groups wearing matching colors to keep track of each other, some women holding scarves held on the other end by one or more children. The people we pass are as phantasmagoric as any place on earth: sadhus with matted hair and others with wrapped heads and tattered robes, half-naked holy men smeared with ashes, and aristocratic looking bearded gentlemen. Young and old, men and women, of all classes and economic levels, unified in their march toward a dip in the holy waters. It is intense and interesting.
We finally arrive at our tent camp, the Kumbh Village, which is located on the river sand with steel plates for roadway, and relax in our luxury tents, with our own bathrooms and heaters. We enjoy dinner and make friends with a Bombay dentist and her sister. I ask if she encounters medical tourism in dentistry and I mention that a recent crown I had cost over $1000 – she said here it would cost an equal of about $2.
After dinner, outside on the grounds, there is a special religious rite to Shiva, very dramatic with a representation of Shiva carried around on the shoulders of the acolytes with the high priest banging a large stick on the ground in front of the procession. I wonder how far this is from tradition. Chanting voices out of loudspeakers permeate the atmosphere, Sanskrit and Hindi, with overlapping different recitations creating layers of sound. This is definitely India.
In the morning, I find out about the nearby stampede and wonder how it will impact us. Our new guide and his assistant meet us at 8:30 and we head out to the first bridge, only to find it has been closed, and then to the second bridge, also closed. We were given an option of another bridge possibly open but it would be a 10 kilometer circuitous hike each way. Instead, we walked to a nearby bathing place where many people were doing their morning dip in cold water. Because of the need to control the crowd, the government had instructed the faithful to go to alternative places to bathe on this auspicious day and this was one of them.
Our Bombay friends the evening before had mentioned the Shivalaya Park which they enjoyed and we suggested that as an option. Our guides are from Varanasi did not really know it but found out where it was — but did not ask how far it was. So we walked about 7 kilometers on a very crowded street and then found it closed due to the day’s emergency. But the walk itself was full of interesting sights, including the Maharishi Ashram, with a mass of people chanting. There were a long string of food stalls, filled to capacity with people. It is impossible to describe our experience in words. The crossing of major intersections was a challenge with closely packed people trying to move in all four directions at one time, with soldiers standing nearby. A traffic light or even someone directing traffic would not have worked as the stopped direction would have dangerously backed up quickly if there was no continuous flow. There was a sense of uneasiness, perhaps impatience at the situation for everyone is delayed or now unable to complete their dip in the Ganges as planned.
I asked our guides to find a way to get us back on wheels and eventually they negotiated a fee, I have no idea how much, with a private man on a scooter and his friend. I did a lawyerly mental interpretation that a scooter is not a motorcycle and would be safer for me than a very long walk back so Bill and I had the wildest ride of our lifetimes. We were each on the back of a scooter (Bill later said his was electric) and we took off — weaving through huge numbers of walking people, with our horn honking the whole time and my driver yelling for the crowd to part for him. We were probably going 2 mph most of the time, with the 4-way crossings looking absolutely impossible to get across but we did it. And arrived near our tents safely.
This was all before lunch. After lunch, Bill decides to rest and I sit and write but am pulled out of my comfortable seat by the sounds of a woman’s strong chanting from a loudspeaker and I feel I have to find out where it is coming from. We were told to tell the office if we went out on our own and I stop by and speak to an older gentleman there who says it is perfectly safe for a lone woman to travel around this site. So I walk over to the pontoon bridge about 2 km away and have a view of large crowds of people completing their bathing rituals on this auspicious day and then go with the flow of people walking toward the other shore on the bridge. At the end, I turn around and walk back.
This is a completely different experience than our walk in the morning. I can sense the great peace and happiness of everyone on the bridge walking slowly and peacefully together. As if something important has been accomplished and now they can relax. I make friends with a number of people along the way, offering to take photos of several happy couples and meeting several groups of women who are very friendly and want to include me in their walk. I realize I am perceived as someone very different as a lone older women walking alone than if accompanied by several local guides. The sun is beginning to set and there is a beautiful glow over everyone and I feel very much at peace.
Now, I am in my tent writing before dinner and hear both Hare Krishna chant from one direction, and more complex Sanskrit from another. Hopefully a hot water bath and sleep tonight.